


k-i-*-*-i-n-g

by dorkymish



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 5 Times, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 04:04:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7742662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorkymish/pseuds/dorkymish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"James Buchanan, I don't know whether I should kiss you or kill you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	k-i-*-*-i-n-g

**Author's Note:**

  * For [casismyassbutt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/casismyassbutt/gifts).



> As always, this is for Charlotte. And it's the result of our sad headcanon discussions. Thanks, darling.

i.

It was his mother who'd said it first.

Staring down at them in shock when Bucky brought him home, bruised and a little bloody from some bully not taking no for an answer. Bucky had stepped in and insisted the older kid stopped; he'd gotten socked himself. Purple was a good color on his face.

"James Buchanan," Sarah Rogers had cried, ushering them both inside and tending to their wounds. "I don't know whether I should kiss you or kill you."

"Ma," protests Steve, because he's nothing if he doesn't stand up for his friends, even at six years old. "Bucky didn't mean to get hurt. He 'uz just tryin' to protect me."

So she'd looked at them seriously, one hand on each of their chin's steadfast, gaze latched onto two boys with matching black eyes. "You listen good, boys," she'd scolded. "All's well when you protect your kin, but you protect yourself too. And if you show up here bruised and battered again, next time I won't be kissing your wounds better."

ii.

He'd said it later, when they were maybe eleven years old.

They were Steve's new paint supplies, and Bucky was trying to paint him a picture. "Bucky, those are brand new!" Steve had wailed, and tears had sprung to his best friend's eyes.

"I'm sorry!" he cried. "You just make such pretty paintings and I wanted to return the favor. I thought that I could make somethin' pretty to give you like you give me."

It was an messy, soaked piece of paper with the artistic skill nearly every eleven year old possessed. Paint dripped from the corners and smeared from where it'd been overused, and it was beautiful.

"James Buchanan, I don't know whether 'ta kiss you or kill you!" Steve shouted. Bucky startled, dropping the paintbrush and looking properly abashed. Steve floundered for a moment. It was a phrase his mama said to Bucky more often than not, whose trouble-making says made her exasperatedly fond. But Steve took the painting and set it on the fire escape to dry, and crushed Bucky in the tightest hug his frail little arms could manage. "You're a jerk for usin' my stuff, Barnes," he huffed. "But I really love the painting."

iii.

They had to be nineteen, twenty years old. Steve came home late from art class, and Bucky sat on the couch looking like the cat who'd gotten the canary.

"What'd you do this time?" Steve hedged. Bucky grinned from ear to ear, reached behind his back, and tossed a gorgeous ripe orange into Steve's hand. "Buck. What is this."

"Well, in America, I believe they call them oranges," Bucky had teased.

"How did you get it?" Steve cooed, pressing his fingers into the firm skin. He could already taste how sweet it was going to be.

Bucky just shrugged. "Swiped some dough offa' some poor shmuck with his head turned the wrong direction."

"James Buchanan," Steve whispered, as he broke into the orange and broke it in half. "I don't know whether I should kiss you or kill you."

He devoured his half of the orange happily either way. It was sweet and sticky and amazing, all the things they'd been going so long without. Part of Steve was furious at Bucky for spending money he'd swiped, wishing he hadn't done it or that they'd used the bill for rent.

Part of him wanted desperately to forget about the killing part of his exclamation and instead taste the oranges off of Bucky's lips.

iv.

"Hey, Stevie."

He shifted out of habit, automatic at the sound of Bucky's voice, making room for the other soldier to climb up next to him on his cot. He was a lot bigger, now; his shifting didn't do much.

Bucky waved a pack of ciggies in front of Steve's face. "Snagged 'em off of Dum Dum. Think he'll notice his cigs are missin'?"

"You idiot," Steve whispered. "Dugan'll kill you."

"Dummy smokes lady cigs," Bucky said. He shrugged slightly, and the movement shifted Steve's entire cot. "You know I got a soft spot for the lady cigs. They're sweeter than the shit they got for the fellas. Reckon you can have one now, since you're all big and strong."

Steve frowned. "Buck."

"Gonna need to take the edge off, y'know?" Bucky continued, hushed and babbling and scarcely heard in the silence of the night. "Since we're jumpin' onto a goddamn moving train tomorrow. I swear, Rogers, you've had some crazy fucking ideas before, but this takes the damn cake."

"You're scared," Steve murmured. They were pressed together close enough that he could feel Bucky's muscles tense.

"Tryin' to not be," he whispered back. "Kind of a shitty sarge if I can't even be brave for my troop, right?"

And he couldn't help it, he really couldn't; with Bucky pressed so close to him, Bucky's eyes so wide and scared. It hit Steve suddenly that they lived incredibly dangerous lives, and that any mission could be his last with Bucky.

Tomorrow they were jumping on a moving train to catch Arnim Zola.

He was terrified, too.

"James Buchanan," he murmured, soft and low. Bucky's eyes flashed to Steve's. "I don't know whether I should kiss you or kill you."

"Reckon we've done enough killing these past few weeks," whispered Bucky, and it was all Steve needed

He closed the gap, those damned three inches, and Bucky was soft and warm and tasted like goddamned lady cigs and chocolate and home. They pull away after a moment, both a little breathless despite the innocence of the kiss, and Steve whispered, "Stay."

So Bucky did, until morning light broke, and he slipped away to wake the other Commandos and to prep for the mission.

And, well. That was the end.

v.

He wakes up cold. He almost always wakes up cold, but it's different this time. There are blankets on top of him, a pillow beneath his head. The room is a few degrees warmer. He's waking up from cryo but it's never been like this before.

Something warm squeezes his hand.

"Hiya, Buck."

_Steve_.

"Steve?" he croaks.

Warmth squeezes his hand again. Steve is next to him, looking radiant and bright and terribly sad. He gives Bucky his signature Sad Steve Smile, and Bucky frowns in return.

"What do you remember?" he murmurs. Bucky stares at him.

"Why'd you pull me out?" he counters. Steve purses his lips, and Bucky frowns some more, and he struggles to squeeze Steve's hand in reassurance.

Steve lets out this breathless puff of air. "Hated being away from you. I just. I just got you back, Buck."

Bucky makes a sound at the back of his throat that he hopes is a laugh. It draws a smile out of Steve's sad face.

"Steven Grant," he whispers. It's a distant memory. "I don't know whether I should kiss you or kill you."

And he means it. Regardless of whether or not the memory is real, he means every word. His heart is bursting with fondness for Steve, Stevie who pulled him out of cryo just because he missed him. He could kill the idiot, for endangering everyone while Bucky is still unstable.

But Steve's face is splitting into this ear to ear grin, and he lets go of Bucky's hand to grab his chin with one hand and entwine the other one in Bucky's hair. And suddenly Bucky is overwhelmed by Steve being everywhere, engulfing him, as Steve's soft lips warm him up more than the blankets and the heated room alike. Steve's laughing, or maybe he's crying, and Bucky is crying too.

"You goddamn punk," he laughs against Steve's mouth. "You're an idiot, y'know?"

"Don't make me kill you," Steve says, giddy and light again. "I think I kind of like this kissing thing."

Yeah. Bucky supposes he does, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd. All mistakes are my own.
> 
> (feed me with your comments and kudos thx)


End file.
